


Don't Go Breaking My Heart

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Genre: Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, based kind of post-restaurant at the end of the universe, dirty talkin, everyone's favorite, many mentions of the pleistocene epoch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16556087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Trapped two million years before the earth is set to be destroyed by the Vogons, Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect grow close. Very close.





	Don't Go Breaking My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell i'm running out of song titles to use for fic titles

“The story so far:  
In the beginning the Universe was created.  
This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

Unfortunately, there is nothing one can do about reversing the creation of the universe. It’s just kind of there, and if one were to attempt to reverse the creation of the universe, there would be a great many people protesting that, not because they like the universe, but because they live in it, and would rather not be all wiped out of existence. 

Arthur Dent spent a certain amount of time wondering whether or not we all would’ve been better off had the universe not been made entirely. He thinks this more frequently than the average person due to the fact that he is trapped on a tween-aged earth, millions of years before his own birth, with only some hairdressers, a couple of cavemen, and his dear friend Ford for company. 

Yes, at least he had Ford. The only other remotely intelligent being on the planet, Ford Prefect was something almost, but not entirely unlike a human, but from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. 

Now, you might be wondering. Weren’t those hairdressers at least remotely intelligent? And the answer is no. The hairdressers, alongside some telephone sanitizers and amateur film producers, were the rejects of a species of humanoid called the Golgafrinchans. And there was a reason why they were the rejects of their species. 

Because, if Arthur had to hear one more speech about how the humidity was going to damage the Golgafrinchans’ hair, and they needed to immediately come up with a way to fight the humidity, Arthur was going to kill each and every last one of them and feed them to his more primitive ancestors. 

“I swear to god, they’re the most irritating people on the planet.” Arthur lamented to Ford. “They make every half-baked comedian I ever heard in a bar sound like Jesus Christ himself.”

“To be fair, that’s a rather low bar, considering the fact that they’re pretty much the only people on the planet outside of us.”

“At least the cavemen don’t talk back when you tell them to bugger off.” 

“That’s because they can’t talk at all.”

“Exactly.” Arthur closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “My ape ancestors have the right idea. Only speaking in grunts and flailing hand motions.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “How come the babel fish doesn’t translate the cavemen’s language?”

“I’m not sure. It’s probably too primitive for the fish to even consider it a language.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Is there any way to remove the fish so I don’t have to hear every damn time that captain makes another stupid decision?”

Ford let out a laugh that was only slightly pained. “God, I wish. No, unfortunately, unless you want to get it surgically removed, and I don’t think you want any of those telephone sanitizers doing surgery on your head.”

“I suppose not.”

The two of them were sitting side by side, on the edge of a rather steep cliff. Arthur’s head rested on Ford’s shoulder. 

They had been on this new earth now for a while. Too long to bother counting. But in that time, Arthur realized that humans do, in fact, need physical contact in order to remain reasonably happy. And Ford was always a touchy-feely sort of friend. So he just sort of began trying that too. Holding Ford’s hand, laying a head on his shoulder. Spooning occasionally. And it had radically improved Arthur’s mood, so he just didn’t stop. 

It didn’t feel weird, not with Ford. Ford was his best friend, the one who had been with him through thick and thin, who usually had his back. And really, who was going to care if sometimes he liked sleeping next to his best friend? Or that he rather enjoyed feeling Ford’s arms around him, in a strong but gentle embrace? Or that he definitely felt when Ford brushed his lips against Arthur’s cheek, and instead of telling him off, he wanted to keep feeling it?

So, maybe Arthur had a bit of a crush on Ford. Not a big deal. Zaphod wasn’t there to make fun of them. And the rules of society don’t matter when the closest thing there is to society are a bunch of crazed hairdressers and cavemen banging rocks together. So there was no harm in it. 

Though, the thing was, he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Ford about this crush. Even when he had Ford’s arms wrapped around him while the two of them were laying in a cave on some unrecognizable animal pelt, he was still too nervous to admit it to him. Arthur had a feeling that they could be passionately making love, and he still wouldn’t be able to pull himself together and tell Ford how he felt. 

Not that they had made love or anything like that. Though Arthur did once catch Ford jacking off, and he could have sworn that he heard Ford muttering Arthur’s name. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t help that they were still stuck on this young earth. And the Golgafrinchans were only getting stupider by the minute. 

“Maybe we should leave again.” Arthur suggested. “Sail around the world again. Maybe find a better place to settle down. Somewhere with fewer jackasses.”

“Not a bad idea. But what if someone comes back looking for us, and we’re off on another continent?”

“We’ve already been here for so long, Ford. What are the chances that someone’ll come by?”

Ford sighed. “Next to none. But I just want to keep up hope that we won’t die here.”

“I know. But we don’t have any idea where Trillian and Zaphod went, and no one else knows we’re here.”

“Maybe we can build a ship out of plants and leaves. Ones that the Golgafrinchans haven’t burned down yet.”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh painedly. “God, I hate them. If I didn’t have you, I think I’d’ve killed myself by now.”

Ford grabbed a hold of Arthur’s hand. “Lucky thing that I’m here, then.” 

“It would be lucky if neither of us were trapped on this planet, and we were instead drinking some sort of alcoholic beverage somewhere quieter and less on fire. And we didn’t have to kill all of our food. And I could have tea whenever I wanted.”

“I know you miss your tea. But isn’t charred antelope carcass better?”

“Absolutely not, but thanks for trying.”

Ford squeezed Arthur’s hand, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. “So, which way shall we go, then?”

“Let’s try south. As nice as Slartibartfast’s fjords are, I’d rather not freeze my ass off.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Ah, fuck. Ford was doing it again. Flirting, and not even being vague about it. It took Arthur a few moments to remember how to speak. “Right, and some of the animals that live up north seem rather like they’d like to have me for a meal.”

“Yes, Pleistocene megafauna are rather terrifying. And the last ice age is set to happen in about a million and a half years, if I’m not mistaken, so the glaciers will be travelling right where we’re sitting.”

“We won’t be here to see those glaciers, unless some bizarre event has turned us both immortal. Though at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve already watched my planet die, and time traveled to the end of the universe.”

“And now, you’re trapped on your own home planet two million years in your past, with only a disenfranchised Betelgeusian and some hairdressers for company.”

“The Betelgeusian I can handle. The hairdressers, not so much.”

Ford pulled his knees up to his chest, letting Arthur’s hand slip out of his. “So, shall we head on our way south? Any travelling we do should be done before the sun sets.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re right. We should head out. I was just rather enjoying sitting here. Despite all that’s happened, it’s still a lovely view.”

“Yes.” Ford’s voice sounded preoccupied. “It is.”

Arthur could tell out of the corner of his eye that Ford wasn’t looking at the view. He felt butterflies in his stomach, and something in the back of his mind said that that was definitely not how butterflies actually felt, and that the phrase was rather odd. Then, he heard a series of words come out of his mouth. “My, this really is something we’ve got ourselves worked into, isn’t it?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“This thing we have going on.”

“Could not possibly be more vague.”

“Ford,” He turned to Ford, grabbing him by the shoulders, “This. Us. The fact that we’ve been sleeping together for the last god knows how long, and that I’m always laying my head on your shoulder, and that I know you’ve kissed me before when you thought I was asleep but I really wasn’t. We need to talk about it.”

Ford’s eyes widened, and a spark of fear crossed his face. “Alright, if you want to, we can talk about it.”

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. In a bad attempt to solve this problem, he swallowed rather loudly. He then attempted to clear his throat. 

“Are you dying?”

Arthur felt like it on the inside. “No, I’m just having a rather bad go of it. But that’s not important. What is important,” he paused, pulling together what scraps of courage he had left, “is that I love you, and I have a distinct feeling that you feel the same about me, considering how many jokes you make about my behind.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Ford released a breath, but at the same time still looked tense. 

“Something’s wrong.”

“I don’t know. I just…” Ford’s eyes widened, and he pointed at something in the distance. “What is that?”

Arthur turned around. That was, in fact, the slightly shrouded form of something that looked distinctly like a sabre-toothed tiger. “Right. Well, that’s terrifying. What do we do?”

“We stand up, very slowly.” They stood very slowly. “And then we run like hell back into the woods.” 

They ran back into the woods. After they were a fair distance away, they found a cave they recognized and decided that might be a good place to hide.

“Lord!” Arthur exclaimed, panting. “They never teach you about those in middle school.”

“The pleistocene is big in the megafauna department. In both size and number.”

“Lovely. Why did we have to end up in this period specifically?”

“A nasty turn of fate.”

Arthur smiled. “Maybe the Golgafrinchans will get eaten by a pack of giant bears or something.”

“We can only hope.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, and it took that long for Arthur to remember what they had been talking about before the moment was rudely interrupted by a huge mammal. “Tell me what’s wrong, Ford.”

“It’s just that, we’ve got something nice going on. And I don’t want to mess that up. I really like the spooning, and the hand-holding, and whatnot. And if something happens…”

“Ford.” Arthur said, rather authoritatively. “We can cross that bridge when we get to it. My whole life lately has been constructed entirely from riding by the seat of my pants. I have no idea what I’m doing, ever, at any time. But what I do know is that I would really like to make out with you for an unreasonably long period of time.”

Ford, hesitantly, but then with more confidence, hooked his fingers around the tie of Arthur’s robe and pulled him closer. “What’s with this sudden burst of confidence?”

“Definitely has something to do with the saber-toothed tigers.” And, perhaps, his raging boner. 

“Really? Somehow I doubt that.” 

Arthur put his hands on Ford’s chest. Then, he leaned into Ford’s ear and whispered, “You know, when we spoon, I can feel every single time you have a boner.”

Ford nipped at Arthur’s ear playfully. “That’s the idea.”

“You filthy man.”

“I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?” Ford pressed his knee between Arthur’s thighs, evicting a shuddering sigh from Arthur. “But I’m not the only guilty party here.”

“ _Fuck_ , Ford.”

“That’s the idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm emma and i'm desperate for more content for this pairing so naturally I have to take things into my own hands   
> it helps that every single time i so much as think about the hitchhiker's guide i immediately go to ao3


End file.
